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A good deal of the time we spent at Yank's bedside, generally sitting silent and constrained, to the mutual discomfort of all three of us, I am sure. At odd intervals we practised conscientiously and solemnly at the "draw." We would stand facing each other, the nipples of our revolvers uncapped, and would, at the given word, see who could cover the other first. We took turns at giving the word.
The Northerner was named Rogers, but was invariably known as Yank. The Southerner had some such name as Fairfax, but was called Johnny, and later in California, for reasons that will appear, Diamond Jack. Yank's distinguishing feature was a long-barrelled "pea shooter" rifle. He never moved ten feet without it. Johnny usually did most of the talking when we were all gathered together.
Hargrove caught the blow on his arm, but it beat down his arm to his head enough to "hurt like thunder", as Hargrove expressed it. Hargrove grabbed a loose tree branch and struck at Yank's horse which about that time got a bullet from our infantry line and ran away from Hargrove, so that he made it to our new line. That night we buried Horton near the Franklin pike, where we bivouaced.
We sat around in the awkward fashion peculiar to very young boys in the sickroom; and then, to our vast relief, were shoved out by Señora Moreña. With her we held a whispered conversation outside, and completed satisfactory arrangements for Yank's keep. She was a chuckling, easy-going, motherly sort of creature, and we were very lucky to have her.
"How do you like my style of a man herder?" inquired the old matchmaker, once we were out of hearing. "Why, Tom, I'd have held those mail thieves until dark, if Dan hadn't drifted in and given me the wink. Shepherd kicked like a bay steer on letting me have a second quart bottle, but it took that to put the right glaze in the young Yank's eye. Oh, I had him going south all right!
Johnny and Yank were backed up against the palmetto awning of one of the boats in an attitude of deadly and quiet menace. Not two yards away stood four of our well-dressed friends. Nobody as yet displayed a weapon, except that Yank's long rifle lay across the hollow of his left arm instead of butt to earth; but it was evident that lightnings were playing.
Thereupon, our minds at rest, we returned to the landing to enjoy the scene. The second ship's boat had beached, and the row was going on, worse than before. In the seething, cursing, shouting mass we caught sight of Yank's tall figure leaning imperturbably on his rifle muzzle. We made our way to him. "Got your boat yet?" Talbot shouted at him.
Yo've done with them as you pleased, an' I'm a-gwine to do with these jest as I please, and yo'uns that don't like hit kin jest lump hit, that's all." "'Frony Bolster, I want yo' to take yo'r arms from around that Yank's neck," said the man who had tried to take Shorty's gun. "I won't 'low yo' to put yo'r arm 'round another man's neck as long's I'm alive to stop it."
"If Mad Whately's high- strung notions lead 'im to fight a duel," he thought, "en the Yank comes off best, I'll settle my own score. Whately was ter'ble stirred up 'bout the Yank's talkin' ter his cousin, en would like ter kill 'im, but his officer-notions won't let 'im kill the blue- coated cuss ez I would.
It consumed most of the morning, and was productive of much squabbling, in which, however, we took no part. Our share, including Yank's with which we were intrusted came to about thirty-one pounds: a value of about seven thousand dollars. We were impatient to be off, and now wanted nothing so much as to be done with the whole affair.
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